


One Soul

by Nilmiel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, sibling relationships, twins au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4599531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilmiel/pseuds/Nilmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the story of the Champions of Kirkwall, Garrett and Marian Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I meant this to be only 500 words or so but help I have fallen for this AU and cannot get up. Inspired partially by [this](http://castiemrys.tumblr.com/post/99685109326/i-live-for-aus-where-both-marian-and-garrett-exist) amazing doodle from [castiemyrs](http://castiemrys.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

Two children, one soul. Leandra smiled breathlessly at the newborn infants in her arms, eyes squeezed shut against the harsh light. “Twins,” she sighed. “Malcolm, they’re twins.”

Her husband laughed in a throaty chuckle. “I can see that, love.” He leaned down over her so he could plant delicate kisses on each of their heads. “They stole my hair,” he smiled, running his fingers through his thinning locks.

Leandra gave gentle scoff. The boy she held on her left stretched out his tiny hand to clasp at his sister’s arm. The girl made a tiny sound at the contact and flailed her hand about as if to catch her brother’s. She could hardly tell which child was which, had not the midwife told her when she had handed her the babes. They both had a swath of thick, dark hair upon their heads, both had blue eyes that were so bright when they opened it had surprised her. They were the same size, had the same red noses, tiny hands, and delicate feet. A deep wash of adoration bloomed in her chest as the two continued to reach for one another. “I thought I knew what it was like to love someone,” she muttered. Malcolm knelt next to her and cupped her flushed cheek in a calloused hand. He didn’t speak, but she could see the smile in his bright eyes that matched their children. “I didn’t even know I could love something this much.”

“We should give them names, and probably name tags, before I lose track of which one is which.” Malcolm’s lips brushed her ear as he spoke into her hair. She laughed and turned to kiss his nose. “It’s a good thing we picked a name for a girl and a boy. If we had had two girls or two boys, we would have to fight over it. And we all know how that would turn out for me.”

“Marian. And Garrett.”

“Marian and Garrett _Hawke._ ”

Her husband drew her arm around the three of them and tenderly, he pulled them close. “…You’ll have to help me love, which one is which again?”

“You-“ Leandra huffed and blew on his face to shoo him away. He laughed again, a deep, resounding sound, and stood back to look on his family.

“And how are you feeling, my lady?” He asked, and Leandra could see the magic sparking in his fingertips. She did a quick assessment- all her extremities were there, but her torso ached and her head was thick with exhaustion and pain. It paled in comparison to the relief of everything finally having come to an end, but the aches were becoming more insistent in spite of the joy she felt.

“Tired,” she answered. “And sore. And as if I just gave birth to a druffalo instead of twins. And somehow I still feel as huge as one. And now my feet are beginning to ache, and-“

“Hush,” Malcolm laughed, bringing his hands and blue light to rest upon her stomach.

“I tell you what, though,” Leandra sighed as muscles relaxed and flesh knit itself together. “I am _never_ doing twins again.”

 ------

They were inseparable. As soon as Marian took her first teetering steps to her father, Garrett stood to follow. When Garrett spoke his first word, (“dog”, because clearly that was more important than “mama”,) Marian burbled until the word spilled from her lips. As soon as they were old enough to run around their small house unsupervised, they would chase each other from room to room, the mabari pup hot on their heels.

Leandra caught them playing outside in the mud one afternoon. Marian had stuck her whole hand into a particularly perfect puddle and in one swift motion drew her finger across Garrett’s face. Her son started, surprised by the sudden cold mud on his face but Marian quickly calmed him saying, “It’s war paint. Now you’re a mabari!”

Garret’s surprised expression instantly melted into a smile, and then to a bubbly laugh, and he dug his fingers into the mud. Marian squealed as he reciprocated the mark on his face across her nose. “Well, if I’m a mabari, you have to be one too cause we’re twins.” He beamed.

“Those two fearsome mabari had better not end up dragging mud into my house,” Leandra warned from the window.

\----- 

“I thought you weren’t doing this again.”

“This is your fault.”

“Don’t blame me, it was your great-grandfather who had twin brother—ow, ow!”

“Your. Fault.” Leandra hissed, squeezing her husband’s hand, not caring if her nails were a little bit sharper than they needed to be. Vaguely, she saw Garrett and Marian huddled outside the doorway. Marian whispered into her brother’s ear, and he smiled wide.

 ------

Two more children, souls as different as night and day. “I want to hold Bethany now, Garrett.” Marian whined.

“Hush, my girl.” Leandra cautioned. “You are going to be very important to both of the little twins. Carver is going to grow up with you too. He loves you very much.”

“But all he does is _cry,_ mama. Bethany is always quiet. I like to hold her better.”

“You got to hold Bethany longer last time,” Garrett spoke from next to his sister. “We have to share. We’re both the big ones now.”

 ------

They came into their magic within minutes of each other. Leandra woke in the middle of the night to the sound of panicked children and sat bolt upright in her bed, her heart racing. Malcolm was already on his feet and crossing to the children’s room. Leandra wrapped the blanket around her shoulders against the cold Ferelden winter and quickly followed him.

“Papa,” They cried in unison as he entered. “I had a bad dream,” Garrett continued.

“Me too,” spoke Marian. They clung to each other on their small bed, their hands clasped with small white knuckles. “He said he wanted us, Papa. He wanted us both. He told me if I wasn’t good he would take Garrett away.”

“He said he would take Marian,” Her brother cried.

One of the pillows was singed at the corners. The other was crisp with ice. Leandra did her best not to let dismay show on her face. She had known there would be a chance, of course— her blood had too much magic, and Malcolm— but the realization still froze like ice in her heart. Her children. Her son, her daughter, haunted by magic, facing demons each night—

“It’s alright, my darlings.” Malcolm scooped both of them into his arms and pressed beardy kisses to their foreheads. “You are both Hawkes. You’re too strong for them to get you.” The twin’s breath stilled and both looked to their father with wide blue eyes. “Do you know what this means, loves?”

“Magic,” They answered as one.

“That’s right,” Malcolm answered, a glint in his eye and a smile on his face. “Magic. Now, both of you, look at me.” He lowered his voice. “I need you two to listen to me very _very_ carefully. Magic is very dangerous. But it is also very useful. And beautiful.” He held out his hand and danced sparks over his fingertips. The twins stared, enraptured. “I want you to repeat after me,” He paused, looking at them both in turn. “My magic will serve that which is best in me.”

“My magic will serve that which is best in me.” They chimed, already calmed from the edge of panic into excitement.

“Not that which is most base.” Her husband continued.

“Not that which is most base.” They finished.

“Well done, loves!” Their father sang. “Now, here is your first lesson: Sometimes, when you dream, spirits will try to talk to you. They will try and promise you things if you help them.” His voice dropped to something frightening. “You must never _ever_ listen to them. You have to be strong. If you are scared, call for me, and I will come running.” The grim line of his mouth widened to a smile. “And look out for each other.”

“Yes, papa.”

“Yes, papa.”

“Now,” Malcolm said, clamping his hands down onto their heads and mussing their dark black hair. The children both giggled in delight. “What is the most important thing to remember about the Hawkes’ magic?”

“It’s a secret!”

 ------

Though they all four of them were Hawkes, and both of them pairs of twins, Leandra could hardly recognize that both pairs were her children. Marian and Garrett may as well have been attached at the hip, while Carver was a wild child who followed his older siblings everywhere into all kinds of trouble, and Bethany preferred to follow her or Malcolm around the house and help out in any way she could, (which for a five-year-old usually meant sweeping with her tiny thatch broom and feeding the chickens dried corn).

Marian and Garrett were showing Carver the proper way to hold a stick like a sword, while Bethany picked flowers, weeds and crops alike, for all of them. Leandra sighed as she watched them from the kitchen window. The older twins had both donned their now traditional mabari war paint made from red earth near the stream. They each held a tall stick, reminiscent of their father’s staff, and whirled them demonstratively for their little brother. _They adore one another,_ Leandra thought. _My children love each other more than—_ She was startled from her thoughts as Marian whapped Carver on the head with the end of her stick. He quickly dropped his little sword and fell to the ground stunned. Her oldest daughter recognized what she had done, and her hands flew over her mouth in sudden guilt. Garrett looked to his mother in the window, and, sensing trouble, grabbed Marian’s hand with a yelped “run!” and they were off into the fields.

Carver took a few gulps of air before tears welled in the corner of his eyes and he started to wail. Bethany dropped her flowers and rushed to her brother’s side to comfort him.

Leandra scowled. So much for that.

\------ 

“That means you get to go on adventures with us and papa!” Garrett cried, throwing his arms around both of his sisters. He was taller than Marian now, but both still had the same sly smile on their face, the same dark hair, the same lanky arms, and bright blue eyes.

“It’s so exciting, Bethany,” Marian chimed. “You don’t have to be afraid at all. Papa is the best teacher, and Garrett and I will always look after you.”

Bethany beamed at the older twins. “My magic will serve that which is best in me,” she chimed.

“And not that which is most base.” The three finished together.

Carver let out an angry sigh from where he sat beside his mother on the porch of their small house. “It’s not fair.” He growled. “Now they’re going to take Bethany from me.”

“Carver,” Leandra sighed, and pulled the boy into her arms.

“Mom!” He cried, indignantly, but eventually he resigned himself to her affection.

“My handsome man,” Leandra said, lifting his face to look her in the eyes. “You know that’s not true. Your brother and sisters love you. They will never abandon you.” Carver huffed. “Don’t give me that,” she responded, tickling his sides. He gave a high-pitched laugh and struggled against her. “Its true, your siblings all have magic, and it seems like you don’t. But no matter what you are, you are a Hawke, and there’s power in that.” Carver pursed his lips. “Your siblings are going to have to go through a lot to learn to master their gifts. And you know what else? That gift means they will always have to look over their shoulder. You are going to have to be the one they depend on.”

Carver’s mouth opened as if to say something, but he closed it again.

“You are going to have to be the strong one, love. You will need to fight to protect them, and that is a lot of responsibility. But I know you’re strong enough. You are brave, valiant, and courageous.” She squeezed him close again. “And, if you like,” she said slyly. “We can start our very own club. No mages allowed.”

Her son laughed at that, and threw his arms around her. “As long as it’s a secret,” He whispered into her cloak.

 ------

It was raining, appropriately. The five of them stood huddled together at the edge of the newly dug grave. Leandra could hardly breathe. Carver’s face was dark with anger where he stood beside her, towering over her now. She had her arm around Bethany’s shoulder, who sobbed quietly and hid her face. Garrett and Marian stood behind them like shadows, completely silent, their fingers linked.

_I can’t do this alone._


	2. Chapter 2

Bethany was dead and it was their fault.

Carver howled. “I knew you would take her from me!”

“Carver, we couldn’t—”

“If you two weren’t so damned wrapped up in each other she wouldn’t—” A vicious growl tore through his throat. _Those two, it’s their fault, they weren’t strong enough, they only care about each other._ Garrett’s face was ashen with shock and Marian bit her lip with tears in her eyes, but still Carver could find no pity for them. His mother wailed behind him, clutching Bethany in her arms.

He hated them.

\-- 

A year went by and Kirkwall was still vile. There was nowhere he felt comfortable, nowhere he wasn’t constantly checking the corners of his vision for Templars swooping in to bear him away for harboring apostates. Of course, the mage twins had managed to make names for themselves working for Athenril. Everyday it seemed, this person and that stopped by Gamlen’s shabby excuse for a house asking for the Hawkes.

Apostates shouldn’t make themselves famous. It was lucky that their stupidity seemed to be matched only by the complete ineptitude of Kirkwall’s Templars. Still, they brought in what meager coin they had to support themselves and their mother, so there was at least that to be thankful for. But Carver wanted more. He couldn’t keep the thought from his mind that if only it weren’t for his apostate refugee siblings, he would be able to earn a true living, join the guard, or even the Templars. He could give their mother a house. He could take care of her the way he deserved, let her find some measure of happiness after all that had been taken from her.

He pushed the thought from his mind as they walked through the streets of Hightown behind a particularly stubborn dwarf. If this expedition worked out, there would be nothing to worry about.

 --

So not only were there two additional apostates running around with his siblings, but one of them was a blood mage. A pretty blood mage, but a threat nonetheless. And Aveline joining the city guard- talk about a conflict of interest. If his siblings kept accruing these random strangers, who knows what trouble they could get into. Probably something terrible they couldn't even have fathomed before. And now they all three of them were home, sprawled on their makeshift beds in Gamlen’s living room, discussing the newest addition to the Hawkes' merry little band of misfits.

“And then he smashed the bottle of wine on the wall,” Marian was saying, gesturing enthusiastically in the darkness to Garrett. “A century old bottle of Tevinter red, and I didn’t even get a taste?”

Garrett chuckled. “So, I suppose you could say his new mansion’s décor is…Tevintage?” Garrett finished. Carver mage a disgusted noise.

Marian exploded into giggles of laughter. “Certainly nothing to _wine_ about,”she replied through her mirth. Carver groaned and rolled himself away from the both of them.

“Shut up and sleep,” he sighed.

“You know, he kind of looked like that farmer’s daughter you had a crush on in Lothering.” Garrett whispered in a not-so-quiet voice.

“Shut up, he does not,” Marian retorted. Carver heard the sound of someone getting kicked in the shin.

Garrett continued: “Sure he does. Blond flowing hair, bright green eyes,” He chortled when Marian slapped him again. “I mean, I suppose he stole _more than one heart tonight_ , am I right?”

“Ugh, I knew you were up to something when you said I should go talk to him alone. Didn’t want to be confrontational, my ass. ‘Oh Marian, he’s probably going to be scared talking to TWO mages, you should go into his big fancy romantic mansion alone to make him more comfortable’. Ass.”

“Would you two just shut up?” Carver exclaimed. “Andraste’s teats, how anyone decided you two were the ‘respectable’ ones is beyond me.”

 

“An abomination.”

Carver stood with Marian and Aveline outside the door to the Grey Warden called Anders’ Darktown clinic. For all he complained about Gamlen, at least they weren’t living down here. It got under his skin to see other Fereldens scraping by down here on what little filth there was. He couldn’t have asked that of his mother.

Marian didn’t answer. Her face was set in stone and her arms folded.

“An abomination!” Carver exclaimed again.

“Do you want all the Templars to hear you?” Aveline asked in a harsh whisper. “Stop panicking. We haven’t decided what we are going to do yet.”

“Well, as if we didn’t have enough going wrong with two apostates, a blood mage, a conniving dwarf, and a wanted fugitive on our hands,” Carver replied, exasperated. “Seriously, sister, we have to draw the line somewhere.”

“We can’t do that, Carver,” Marian finally sighed. “We need him. If we can’t find our way into the Deep Roads, there will be no expedition. And no expedition means-”

“Mother will have to squat with Gamlen for the rest of her life. I know. I know. But doesn’t he owe us the information now anyways? We did what he asked. It would be easiest for us if he would leave us alone and we could all lie low, what with the newly dead Templars we seem to be responsible for.”

It was true. It was logic. Even she couldn’t argue with that. For all the grievances he had with his older siblings, it was at least true that they loved their mother at least as much as he did. They wouldn’t do anything more to risk her if they could help it. He tried to catch Marian’s eye, but she still wouldn’t look up.

“Sister,” He prompted.

“You’re right, Carver.”

He was taken aback. “What?”

“Oh, you heard me.” She lifted her head finally and smirked at him. “It would be easier if we could leave him behind and lay low.”

Carver frowned. “I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

“But we can’t. For one, I don't want to turn him away. He is doing good things down here, for people who have nowhere else to turn. He's a skilled healer and with what we are doing, we will need that. If I get one of my ears lopped off next time we run into some Tal-Vashoth, there had damn well be someone there who can reattach it. I'm far less pretty without symmetry."

"Pretty? That's what you're worried about? Can't we find another-"

"For two," Marian spoke over him. "Garrett wouldn’t let us.”

“Garrett—” Why would he—oh. Oh, no. Oh, no no no. “No. No. Don’t tell me. You’re wrong.”

“Oh, for Andraste’s sake,” Aveline began and put her head in her hands. “You Hawkes and your ill fated attraction to illegal people. First your mother runs away with an apostate, and the rest of you can’t help but take after her.”

“I know him, Carver.” Marian said. He couldn’t help but notice the slight bit of bitterness in her voice.

\-- 

“I just don’t even know how to deal with them,” He was in the Hanged Man with his siblings and a good number of their new rag-tag band of wanted refugees. At least here they could blend in relatively well. It stank enough that there wasn’t a regular patrol of Templars, and certainly the other patrons of the bar wouldn’t approach the city guard if you paid them to. Well, maybe if you paid them to.

“But they’re your siblings,” Merrill said sweetly, standing next to him while they waited for Corff to serve the next round. “That’s normal, isn’t it? When I was growing up, the Keeper’s nephew had three children, all the same age. Creators, they used to fight all the time until one of them ended up crying.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to cry,” Carver said, giving her a slight smile.

She chuckled and patted his hair. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. _Hawkes and their ill-fated attractions indeed._ “No, you don’t seem like the type to cry.”

“Sometimes their jokes make me feel like weeping.”

“Oh, but I find them so delightful! Garrett told me one the other day. Here, what kind of food do Templars hate the most?” She looked at him with bright eyes expectantly.

He’d heard this one before, of course. Garrett had come up with it back in Lothering, and he and Marian had gone around to everyone in the family at least three times to tell them the joke. To their father’s credit, he laughed each time. But he found he couldn’t deny Merrill, who, for all her consorting with demons and messing with blood magic, was about as innocent as a five-year-old.

“I don’t know. What don’t they like?” He said, trying for his most winning grin.

“Apostatoes!” Merrill cried and burst out laughing. “I just think it’s so clever, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Hilarious.”

“Come on now,” She said, scooping up several drinks in one hand and propelling him back towards their Diamondback table with the other. “I want to see if anyone can actually beat Isabela at even one hand tonight.”

Okay, so not all of Kirkwall was that bad.

 

If Kirkwall had been vile, the Deep Roads were hell. Betrayed by Varric’s conniving older brother, left to wander the twists and turns of the old dwarven tunnels for five days. Demon-possessed rocks and darkspawn aside, they had run out of water the previous evening, and out of food three days prior.

Finally, finally, they were back where they had started. But Maker, he _ached_. “I feel wrong,” He spoke up suddenly, stumbling to a halt behind where his brother and sister stood with the dwarf.

“I’ll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found,” Varric chuckled.

No. No, it wasn’t, this wasn’t a stomachache, this was a sickness in the marrow of his bones. His head thudded and he could hear distant discordant music thrumming in his throat. His insides felt like they were trying to turn themselves inside out, and each breath tasted like bile. This wasn’t food poisoning or fatigue. An image came to his mind of Aveline’s husband, pale and sickly, collapsing on the road from Lothering— “No, it’s—”

And he was on the ground.

“Carver!” The twins cried in unison and turned around. He blinked, his eyes suddenly dry. He propped himself up as best he could as Marian came to kneel by his left side and Garrett at his right. Marian pressed her hands to his cheeks and Garrett clutched nervously at his back, helping him into a sitting position.

“It’s the Blight,” Said Anders, a look of dismay on his face.

“Just like you to keep this to yourself,” Garrett sighed with forced levity. “Thought you could walk it off?”

“I thought it was something else—” The words tasted like vinegar in his mouth. Wesley, dead. Him, dead. His sibling’s knife in his chest, broken and forgotten in the Deep Roads. “Just as dead,” He murmured, all the sudden weight of inevitability crashing down on him at once. It made the pain double. _Cheer up, brother. I’ll catch you, don’t worry._

The others were arguing. Anders was saying something about Wardens somewhere, Marian was being short and sarcastic with him, and Garrett was silent, clutching his brother’s hand. Carver closed his eyes and leaned back. Death would be quiet at least, he thought, but he held onto his brother tightly. _I was never one for quiet, anyway._

 _No, you aren’t._ Bethany said. _If you don’t want to come now that’s fine, I can wait for you. I’ll always be here for you._

“If they’re here, we can bring Carver to them.” Anders spoke urgently.

“And what, become a Gray Warden?” Carver asked, head lolling back to look at his sister. She didn’t look back down at him.

“Is it a cure?” She asked.

Cure, yes. Rituals and sacrifice too. How fun. Pledging his life to a group of people he didn’t know, leaving home and maybe never seeing his mother or the twins again? “This just keeps sounding better and better,” He grinned.

“Oh, hush you,” Garrett said softly and brushed the hair from his eyes. “We all know how you would feel about becoming the next Hero of Ferelden.” Maybe he would have jumped at the idea if you had offered a year ago, but here, now, with everything that had happened—

He was being pulled to his feet. “Up you go, strong man,” Marian was saying, shouldering under his arm to support him. “We’ll get this all sorted in no time, and you can go back to arguing and delusions of superiority in no time.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well let you get all the glory from this tale anyway,” He muttered half-heartedly. He took one step forward, and Varric came up from to his other side and put Carver’s hand on his shoulder. Another step. He looked over his shoulder for Garrett.

The older Hawke had his arms around Anders, his face buried into the mage’s feathered coat. Anders stood there, looking down at him with an odd expression, his own arms resting gently on Garrett’s back. Marian made a soft noise of disapproval from beside him. For the first time ever, his brother was stricken with grief and taking comfort in someone other than his sister.


End file.
